Lady Hawk
by LadyHawk225
Summary: When one of the Ronin's is injured after an attempt at suicide, he's left at the mercy of a stranger, and his demons. Rated T for Suicidedark themes. Please R & R!
1. Chapter 1

Lady Hawk

By: LadyHawk225

He walked calmly away from the mansion. A cold, autumn wind rushed against his face as his steady, purposeful steps led him away from the place he called home. Cold, dead leaves crunched against his feet as he walked down the path and across the large yard towards the woods nearby.

He wore no jacket in the cool air and goose bumps adorned his arms as he entered the woods. The dim morning light reflected off his blue hair as he walked through the maze of brush and trees. The forest was silent. There was no noise as he walked through the woods. The song of birds and the gently hum of insects was absent, still sleeping in the early morning dew.

The wind picked up slightly, sending blue tendrils of hair about his face. Leaves swirled in the cold wind and settled across the path in the puddles of muddy water left from the rainstorm the night before.

His shoes were getting wet, but he didn't care. Mud and leaves stuck to the bottom of his sneakers, and Rowen resisted the urge to scrape it off with a stick. Small flowers were crushed beneath his feet as he strayed off the beaten back, mixing with the dirt and grime beneath his treads.

Rowen sighed. The beauty of the untainted forest around him brought him no joy. He wished he could join them. These spirits trapped forever in were the ancient trees.

He stopped, staring up at the branches of the highest tree in the forest. The canopy of leaves were silhouetted in the pale light of morning dotted with pinpricks of light where the leaves have way to gray sky behind. Placing a hand on the rough trunk of the massive tree, he gently stroked the bark with the palm of his hand.

Blood dribbled down his arm as he stroked the rough bark, a scowl written on his face at the pain and blood. Removing his hand from the trunk of the tree he gazed at his palm in fury. These signs of weakness; signs of his life flowing within. He gazed at the tree in awe. These massive creations didn't bleed. They didn't cry out in pain or weary with the toil of the day. They simply lived. They grew. They thrived.

Rowen looked up once more at the massive tree and shivered. How badly he wished to join these great ancients. Once, he had been told that trees were the spirits of those who had never truly lived as humans. They were trapped in this form, constantly reaching towards heaven. They grew and thrived, hoping desperately to gain access to heaven through their stretching braches and blossoming fruits. Their flowers and roots, digging deep into the earth, their trunk spreading out thickly, all in an attempt to find the meaning of true life.

Grasping a branch near his head, Rowen lifted his way up to the thick branch.

His life was like a story. The unlikely hero rises from the ashes of his horrible, nightmarish childhood to save humanity.

Swinging his feet up, Rowen climbed higher.

Throughout the war with the Dynasty, he had kept his eyes on the prize. He had wanted to save the world, save it's people; all those innocents.

Rowen paused, looking down at the ground, now far away. Blinking away the tears in his eyes, he climbed higher.

He had done his job. He had fought the good fight. His life was a hero's saga. Filled with danger and intrigue. But now that the danger was over, what more was there to the hero's life?

Rowen reached the highest branch of the tree. Clinging lightly to the trunk, swaying slightly under his weight, he scanned the surrounding forest for signs of his friends.

He wished that he had died in battle. Then maybe his hero's life would be complete and honorable. Perhaps he would be remembered if he died.

With an impatient sigh, Rowen allowed the tears to leak out the corners of his eyes. They weren't coming. They weren't coming to save him from himself.

His life was a sad story. He wished it had ended long ago.

He tilted his head back and released the trunk of the tree, twisting his body backwards as he fell. He stared at the sky as the wind rushed past his body as it plummeted to the earth. He had left his armor orb behind. Strata wasn't here to save him now.

The sky was so beautiful, blue indigo base with white fluffy clouds, scattered across it. Yet he knew the deceit of the blue, and strained his eyes to look beyond the blue blanket to see the stars. His beautiful, beautiful stars. They were hidden, but he would be with them soon. As his body struck the forest floor, his body smashed into ruins, his stars flashed before his eyes, waving to him in a sea of blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

Lady Hawk

By: LadyHawk225

Chapter 2

Pain. His very core was radiating with pain. Whether up or down or in darkness or in light, Rowen knew nothing but pain. He could move, his mouth wouldn't even allow him to utter a moan to release the tension building inside him. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry; yet his body would allow no such relief.

Confusion racked his fevered brain as he slowly became aware of his senses. He could hear the sound of birdsong and the gentle hum of insects. Slowly, the memory of his haphazard fall came flooding back to him, and he bit back a cry at his fury. He had not died. His story had not ended. How could the gods be so cruel?

Vaguely he was aware that he was moving, but he didn't know how. He could hear the sound of crackling leaves as he was moved through the forest. He decided that someone must be carrying him, for he couldn't feel the ground beneath his own feet and he didn't know where he was going.

The pain in his head grew as he thought, and he vaguely wondered if his friends had come to rescue him after all. But his thought quickly subsided as the pain overthrew his consciousness and he fell into blackness once more.

Her face was stern as she walked through the forest--her cold complexion mixing with her gentle eyes. She carried him through the brush, careful not to injury him worse than he already was. Blood soaked his clothes and hers, mixing with the dirt on her pants and leaving a trail behind them. His body was broken, so she held him like a child, his head upon her shoulder and his body, gently curled in her arms.

He whimpered slightly in his fevered dreams, and she wondered if he would survive. She looked down upon him again and smiled slightly. He was beautiful...but broken, she reminded herself, harshly. There was no time for ideal thoughts. She quickened her pace, hoping to reach her home before it was too late, before death took him.

He was warm. His body had been broken and hurt again and again, but for now, he was warm and safe. She looked down at his pained expression in his sleep, his creased forehead, his frown, his clenched eyes and she was almost sorry that she had saved him from death. Almost.

Reaching over across him, she grabbed a basin of water and a cloth, soaking the cloth in the mixture of warm water and herbs and began to wipe the blood from his face; he groaned in pain as she cleaned his head wounds. A nasty gash cutting across the side of his head where he had struck a stone. Blood poured out of the wound and she cleaned it quickly. Pulling thread from her pocket, she threaded a thin needle in the dim light and went to work stitching the gash closed.

He whimpered in his sleep, turning his head slightly to the side in an effort to escape the pain, but she took a gentle yet firm hold on his chin and held him stationary.

Her stitches were small, almost invisible to the naked eye, very neat and orderly, carefully created so as not to leave a scar.

Finishing, she applied some herbs to the wounds and dressed it, satisfied that he would not die from that wound this day.

Rowen's fevered mind was vaugly aware of his naked chest and the slight chill he felt there. He gasped in surprise as a cool cloth came in contact with his skin, the slight pressure causing waves of nauseous pain to wash over his body.

He cried out and flinched back, but the movement only sent more waves of sharp pain down his body and he couldn't stop the sob from escaping his cracked lips.

Gentle hands held his shoulders as the tears ran down his face, his sobs of pain and horror causing his chest to tighten in agony.

His racing heart slowly calmed down as he heard the distinct sound of a woman, humming a soft tune in his ear. In his pain, he had not even noticed the arms, encircling him gently, and the cool cloth, rubbing away the aches in his chest.

Suddenly, horror swept over him again and he cried out in confusion. He couldn't see.

"I-I can't s-see!" He croaked out through his raw throat. Panic gripped him and he tried to lift a hand to his face, convinced that there was some sort of object obstructing his vision.

He couldn't move his arm, however, and the pain cause fresh sobs to wrench from his throat. He wanted to scream, but the pain wouldn't allow it. His tears did nothing for his agony as he cried.

"Shhhhhh." A gently voice whispered. Those arms, encircling him, gently pulled away and Rowen felt a cool had wiping the tears from his eyes.

"You're eyesight will return in time. It is a side-affect of your fall." She said, quietly.

Rowen nodded slightly and immediately regretted the action as his head throbbed in pain once more.

"W-who are you?" He groaned. He was scared. He was in pain and he couldn't see or move and there was a strange woman with him.

"Relax. I am a friend. You are safe with me." She said, calmly. "What is your name?"

"Rowen." He responded quietly. "Where are we?"

"My home." She replied, wiping his shoulders with the cloth. Rowen could smell the healing herbs she had mixed in the water, and suddenly he felt very drowsy.

"What can I call you?" He asked, his mind drifting off slowly into blackness.

"Lady Hawk." She responded softly. But Rowen didn't hear her, he was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

This is NOT a Mary-Sue, I swear. I own nothing. Please R & R!

Lady Hawk

Chapter 3

By LadyHawk25

Rowen groaned at the bright light penetrating his dreams. He welcomed the light—it chased away the dark nightmares of his sleep, bringing him stumbling into the dawn. Turning his head slightly, he grimaced at the dull throb that accompanied the movement. His blind eyes fluttered at the light, unable to see—the light invading his darkness confused him.

Without his eyes, his other senses were much more acute. He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he felt as if he were floating. Dull, throbbing pain radiated throughout his body, and he instinctively avoided moving any more, wary of his injuries. Sighing deeply, he listened to the sound of birds chirping and rushing water. He could smell the fresh water nearby, mingling with soft moss and damp tree bark. Curiously, he picked up the scent of sandalwood, basil, sage, thyme, onions, and hundreds of other herbs and spices. He smiled slightly. It smelled peaceful.

A noise to his far left caused him to jump. He gasped, but caught himself before he moved instinctively to get away from the pain. He knew he was horribly injured, and any movement whatsoever would bring fiery pain into his body. Breathing deeply, as Sage had taught him to do in battle, he was able to will the pain from his mind and relax. Listening intently, he heard the noise again—a clicking sound accompanied by a soft rustling.

"I see you've met Seragil."

Rowen gasped in surprise, but halted his instinct to jump.

"Very good. You've learned to control your instincts somewhat." A soft, melodious voice said gently.

Rowen could tell it was definitely a woman's voice. He could hear her movement around the bed, towards the corner where the sound came from. She returned a moment later, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. Rowen crinkled his forehead in confusion as he felt something soft on his left hand. He curled his fingers around it gently, enjoying the feel.

"A feather?" He croaked, his voice raw and sore.

"Yes. That's Seragil, my companion and friend. He's a red-tailed hawk…they're indigenous to North America." She said, rising from the bed and moving away again.

Rowen caressed the feather between his fingers gently, reveling in the softness. He gulped, preparing to ask her what a red-tailed hawk was doing in Japan, but his breath caught in his throat. He coughed violently and gasped, pain-radiating outwards from his chest to every part of his body. She was there immediately, hold his shoulders steady.

"Try not to move! You'll open your stitches!" She said, holding a cup of water to his lips. Rowen drank readily, only to choke on the water and gasp wildly. He coughed and gasped, unable to stop coughing, unable to stop the pain. She held his shoulders firmly, rubbing his back gently in an effort to sooth him. She offered him another drink, and this time he was able to take it, drinking it greedily. He sighed as his coughing fit left him, enjoying the cool feel of the water in his raw throat.

"Thank you." He whispered as she pulled the cup away. He heard her place it on something nearby and then gently caressed his face, wiping away the last traces of water that had dribbled down his chin during his coughing. He sighed at the feel of her gentle hands and the pain slowly ebbing away into that familiar dull throb.

"You're welcome. Now, stay sitting up so I can dress your wounds."

Rowen nodded slightly as he felt her get up, listening to the sounds of her moving around the room. He heard the clinking of jars and bowls, water running and the crushing of leaves and twigs. He sat very still, afraid to move and unable to see.

She returned quickly, and he heard her pull up a chair of some sort by the bed. He sat very still as she pulled the blankets from his shoulders, exposing his chest, back and stomach to chill morning air. He shivered involuntarily and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Rowen?" She asked softly.

"Yes?" He replied as he felt her gentle hands working the bandages off his chest and shoulders.

"Why did you jump?"

Rowen was startled. He hadn't expected her to know about his attempt at suicide. He wanted to buy some time, so he asked her a question instead.

"How did you know I jumped?"

"I watched you."

Rowen almost gasped in surprise. She had been watching him?

"Then…why didn't you try to stop me?"

She sighed, moving her hands to his arms and removing the bandages there.

"Don't move your arms as I do this. I had to set your broken bones while you slept, and if you move them while the bandages are off, they could break again." She said quietly.

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you didn't answer mine."

Rowen was quiet. He stayed silent as she removed the bandages from his body, twitching slightly as she moved to his hips and legs. He was embarrassed, but stayed silent, unwilling to shy away from her gentle care.

"I suppose…" She began, removing the last of the bandages. "That I let you jump because everyone deserves the right to jump."

Rowen nodded slightly, wincing at the pain in his head.

"Sometimes, we can't figure things out unless we jump…and no one should be denied that."

He hissed as she applied a cold cream to his legs. It seeped into his open wounds and burned like fire. He grit his teeth in pain as she took his legs in her hands with a firm but gentle touch, testing for breaks and sprains.

"Hmm… sprained ankle, knee…I think you cracked your femur. Bruises…" She mumbled to herself as she worked her hands over his legs and up his thighs. He blushed brightly as he felt her hands on his hips, but he said nothing.

She sighed and went back to the cream, smearing the stinging stuff all over the cuts and bruises adorning his legs, thighs and chest.

"You broke some stitches here…" She mumbled. He could almost hear her frowning.

He whimpered as he felt the needle pierce his flesh, gasping as it entered the deep wound on his back.

"Shhhh…it'll be over soon." She soothed.

He nodded slowly and grit his teeth. She finished quickly and he sighed with relief. She smiled and stroked his hair back from his forehead gently.

He relaxed as she continued applying the creamy substance to his wounds, realizing that the wounds previously saturated with the stinging solution were already numb and cool. Finished with the cream, she moved his arms as she gently re-wrapped his broken arm and shoulder. Rowen held very still as she wrapped her arms around him to wrap the soft, fresh cloth around his torso and abdomen. He could feel her soft hair on his shoulders and firm breasts through soft material against his chest as she reached around him. He blushed slightly at this reminder of her womanhood, and his near-nakedness.

Rowen relaxed as she finished wrapping his legs. His whole body felt numb and cool. He was sleepy and didn't resist as she laid him down on soft pillows and pulled the blankets up around him. He sighed deeply as she finished with the bandage on his head wound, her gentle hands lulling him towards sleep.

"Thank you," He mumbled, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"Sleep well, friend." She replied, standing from her chair as he fell asleep peacefully.

She stretched her arms above her head and yawned softly. Gathering the bloodied bandages and the remains of her healing salve, she walked to the hearth where hot coals still burned brightly from the night before. She had stayed up most of the last two days and nights watching over him, refusing to allow death to claim him. Throwing the bloody bandages into the hearth, she watched as they caught fire quickly. Rubbing her eyes she glanced back at her bed where the young man lay.

_Why did you jump?_

The question still haunted her mind. Someone so youthful and free shouldn't have cause for such a leap. So why did he?

_Oh, well. _She thought, moving to the corner where Seragil sat perched, pruning his feathers quietly. He cocked his head to the side as she approached and crooned softly. She smiled, stroking the feathers beneath his sharp beak softly.

"You're right, of course. I can't make him talk. He'll tell me when he can."

She sighed as she turned and walked to the hammock she had constructed in the corner. Settling herself in it gently, she prepared for another day of watching him sleep.

"He's getting a fever. I must watch him closely, or he'll die." She whispered.

"I don't want him to die…"


	4. Chapter 4

Greetings all! Thanks for the reviews…please keep them coming! Feedback is VERY welcome! Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Lady Hawk

Chapter 4

By LadyHawk225

It was dark, several small candles and the fire from the hearth were all the light that bathed the pained warrior and chased the darkness from his body. He groaned, twisting and turning in the bed, thrashing his head back and forth as pain racked his body and fever tormented his mind.

She sat on the edge of the bed, bathing his forehead with a cool cloth, dipped in healing herbs and ointments. Her brow was furrowed in worry—his fever had broken out in full force a little over an hour ago, and had been raging against his injured body ever since.

He whimpered, and she wiped his sweat-dampened hair back from his forehead, murmuring soothing words and humming a soft tune to calm him. His fists curled in the blankets and he gasped in his sleep, wounds jarred and paining him. She held his shoulders steady, trying to keep him still, but his fevered brain was causing him nightmares.

He groaned and settled down a bit, and she sighed, standing from the bed and stretching.

In the corner, Seragil cocked his head, crooning at her softly as he rustled his feathers and hoped from foot to foot on his perch, restlessly.

"All right, all right." She murmured, setting down her bowl of water and herbs and the rag she used to wipe the warriors' brow. Walking to the large shelve near the corner, she plucked a box from the array of jars and bags, boxes and clutter held there. Reaching in, she plucked a dead mouse from within the box and tossed it to the hawk in the corner.

Seragil caught the creature deftly in his beak, gulping it down in one swallow. Replacing the box, she walked to the hearth and pulled the steaming kettle off the fire. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she returned to the bed, watching the blue-haired man.

He was very handsome, even with the bruises and cuts marring his complexion. His hair was dirty and at places caked with blood and mud, and she decided to clean it. Sipping her tea, she poured more hot water into a bowl and took up a fresh cloth, sitting at the bed again and began gently cleaning the blood from his hair. He murmured in his sleep, and she smiled.

"Please…"

She frowned. What was he dreaming about?

"Please…let me…"  
She leaned closer, trying to hear what he was mumbling about, curious.

"Please….just…..let me die…"

She sat up in shock. What was wrong with him? Why did he wish so much for death? Even as he rested, his fevered mind replayed what she could only assume were his thoughts as he tried to commit suicide. Why did he want to die?

Frowning, she continued cleaning his hair, listening to him murmur his wish for death. After a time, his fevered ranting turned to other things and she listened harder, determined to learn something about her mysterious guest.

"…stop…stop him….must save…"

She shook her head. What was he talking about?

"Talpa….guys, please…coming …."

Talpa? Who was this Talpa? She was confused, his ranting was making less and less sense. She suddenly felt badly, like she was intruding on his private thoughts. Shaking her head, she decided to stop listening to his words, and instead concentrate on healing him quickly.

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Rowen groaned as he slowly became conscious. He felt like a truck had hit him. Someone was bathing his head with a cool cloth and humming a soft song nearby. He turned slightly towards the sound.

"You're awake, excellent. Your fever has broken and you will recover quickly now." She murmured.

"Ugh, I don't feel well…" Rowen moaned. He felt nauseous, and weak, besides the ever-present dull throb of pain coming from what seemed like every part of his body.

"That will pass."

"When will my eyesight return?"

"I don't know."

Rowen frowned.

"You mean you don't know IF it will return."

"I don't know."

"Why not!" Rowen snapped. He knew he was being irrational, but he just couldn't take it anymore. Everything hurt, he was sick, he was blind and he had no idea who this woman was.

"Shhhhh…" She tried to sooth him.

"Don't 'shh' me! Look, I want some answers, who are you! Where am I!" He bellowed. The strain caused him to cough, and he gasped in pain. Tears coursed down his face as he gasped, furious at himself, furious at the situation and his weakness, furious that he hadn't died.

"Why did you save me!" He gasped, choking on his tears he continued bull-headedly. "No one asked you to! You should have just let me die!"

He was sobbing now, unable to control his frustration and pain, he wanted to move, wanted to see… that was what frightened him the most—he couldn't see, and he was afraid he never would again.

Sitting up was a groan, he flung the blankets off him, ignoring the pain. Growling, he painfully swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Stop! You'll not healed yet! You'll hurt yourself!" She cried, but backed away at the fierce scowl on his face.

"Leave me alone, I'm FINE!" He growled, standing.

Pain bloomed furiously in his legs and hips and he cried out. His knees buckled and he fell. He screamed as his already bruised and broken legs contacted painfully with the hard floor. She was there in an instant, holding him up by the shoulders, but he pushed her away. Having lost his balance he fell, as any strength he had gained from his frustration and anger left him abruptly, and he landed face-first on the cold dirt floor. He cried into the dirt, pain racing through his veins. The movement sent more waves of nausea through him and he gagged, throwing up on the floor in front of him. Crying desperately, he tried to raise a hand to his face to wipe his mouth but he couldn't move his right arm, and pain shot through his shoulders as he lay there. Sobbing with pain and frustration, he braced his left elbow on the ground and tried to lever himself up, but pain shot through his shoulder again and he gasped, crying fitfully, as he finally lay still, unable to move or see.

Frustrated, she left him there for a moment and went to the hearth to gather her healing herbs and ointments. Gathering her things, she could hear him sobbing on the floor behind her and she ignored him. She allowed her anger to blossom. How could he be so childish? So selfish? After she had gone to all the trouble to clean him up, bandage his wounds and care for him, he rejects her? How DARE he?

She turned around, fully intent on giving him a piece of her mind, but she stopped. She stood a moment, watching him sob and groan as he lay on the floor, dirty, blood seeping through bandages and the contents on his nearly-empty stomach strewn out on the floor before him. He looked pathetic, weak. And she pitied him.

She sighed, and decided to let him lay here and cry himself out before helping him up and into the bed again. Walking over to Seragil, she stroked his feathers slowly as she listened to his sobs dwindle down into sniffles and his moans become more of pain than of frustration.

Turning, she watched as he again tried to get up, but he failed, crying out again as he fell. Sighing, she walked towards him again, her eyes now soft and sad. She would not let him give up so easily.

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Rowen slowly came out of his blind rage and he cried, angry with himself now for how he had acted. He lay on the floor, still sobbing. He couldn't seem to stop. Slowly, he began to get control of himself again and he stopped crying, trying to stand again. He cried out in pain and fell. He felt so helpless and weak, and he hated himself in that moment. Suddenly, he felt gentle hands helping him sit up.

"I—I thought you had left…" He groaned as she lifted him into a sitting position. He was shocked that she had stayed, even though he had yelled and screamed at her.

"No."

He nodded. She was angry with him—but then, he would be too if he were her.

She slowly helped him get up, her arms wrapped around his torso tightly. The pressure of her weight on his wounds hurt badly, but he wouldn't refuse her help again. He sighed in relief as she slowly lowered him onto the soft bed, pulling his legs up under the covers gently.

"Thank you." He murmured, sighing.

He heard her sigh again.

"I told you that you shouldn't get up. Now I'll have to re-stitch several of your wounds and apply fresh bandages and medicine to your injuries." She scolded lightly.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, ashamed.

"It's alright. You're under a lot of stress at the moment."

"No…" He murmured as she began taking the soiled bandages off his legs. "It's not alright. I'm sorry I said such horrible things to you—that was way out of line. I really am very grateful for all you've done for me…I guess I just snapped. I don't know, I really don't have an excuse, please forgive me." He frowned, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to leak out of his blinded eyes.

He jumped slightly when her hands came back to his face, combing back his hair, lovingly.

"I forgive you."

He broke then, nodding silently as he choked on a sob. She gathered him in her arms and rocked him gently back and forth, whispering soothing words in his ears as he sobbed against her. She shed a few tears as well, happy that he had come back to her, and sad that he was in such pain. She wished she could stay like this with him for hours, holding him, comforting him as he cried.

Eventually, his sobs subsided and she smiled gently as he fell asleep in he arms, exhausted from his ordeal. Laying him back down, she went to work, cleaning his wounds and applying fresh bandages—working through the next several hours to restore her mysterious warrior back to health.


End file.
